


Resignation

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Series: On a Hiding to Nothing Series [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Forced miscarriage, Incest, Past Rape/Non-con, Sibling Incest, Twincest, sister wincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 23:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18509659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Things change so quickly for Y/n Winchester… and most of that change is not good. THIS IS A DARK FIC!~~~~~~~~~“You can’t come with me, y/n.”You shook your head. “Why? I wanna avenge Charlie just as-”“You’ve been sick and weak and tired for two days, y/n. Now you’re emotionally drained and sad on top of it.” He sighed and looked down into your eyes. “And I can’t be pacified for this. I need every ounce of rage the Mark can give me.”You reached out and wrapped your hands in his jacket. “What if they kill you?”“Then I come back with black eyes, I massacre them all and then I come find you.” You ran your hands up to his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. He groaned and pushed you hard into the metal behind you. “Fuck, I want to fuck you so bad.” He shook his head as he pulled back. “But I can’t. When I get back… baby, I promise when I get back I’ll fuck the thoughts outta both our heads, but right now?”You nodded. “I understand.” He pulled the Chevy keys out of his jacket and walked toward the driver’s door. “I love you, Dean.”He turned and licked his lips. “I love you, too. Get some rest. Don’t let Sam do anything else stupid, okay?”“Like I could stop him.”





	Resignation

**Story Warnings** : angst, depression, Charlie’s funeral scene, violence to the reader, forced miscarriage (through violence),  **18+ HERE BE SEX! DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!** , unprotected sex, incest, sister wincest, oral (male rec), angst and more angst

* * *

Your back was aching, eyes stinging with tears. You supposed it was more the weight of your emotions than the weight of the branches and small logs you were piling into a funeral pyre. You loved Charlie. She was so sweet and smart, resilient and beautiful. A truly beautiful human being, inside and out. Your heart hurt as you thought about the first time you met her, when she gave you a bright smile and cocked her red eyebrow and asked, “Do you like Harry Potter? Because I a-dumble-dore you.” She never could resist flirting with you.

You took a shaky breath as Dean walked from the car with Charlie in his arms. She was wrapped in a shroud made from the sheets from the motel room where you found her. Sam moved to help place her on the pyre and you lit the flame. The smell of gasoline and burning flesh never bothered you as badly as it did that day.

You wanted to sit on the grass, to sob like you’d never sobbed over anything. You didn’t even cry that way when your father died. You stayed standing, barely holding yourself together, leaning slightly into your twin’s side.

“Charlie. We’re gonna miss you,” Sam started and you could feel rage radiating off of Dean. “You were the best. And I’m so sorry-”

“Shut up,” Dean snapped. Sam looked over, pain and surprise on his face. “You got her killed, you don’t get to apologize.”

Sam fought with his words as you leaned closer to Dean. “We were trying to help you.”

“I didn’t need help. I  _had_ y/n. I told you to leave it alone!”

“What was I supposed to do, just… watch you die?”

Dean shook his head. “The Mark isn’t gonna kill me.”

“Maybe not, but… when it’s done with you, you won’t  _be you_  anymore. Look what it’s already done. Look at what you’ve done to y/n. Dean, you two are all I’ve got. So, of course I was gonna fight for you because that’s what we do. And listen, I had a shot-”

“Yeah, you had a shot.” Dean turned his head to look at Sam. “Charlie’s dead. Nice shot.”

Sam focused on the burning body. “You think I’m…” He looked up to the sky, blinking rapidly to try to dispel his own tears, but you just let yours roll unhindered down your cheeks. He bit his bottom lip and turned to you and Dean. “You think I’m ever… ever gonna forgive myself for that?”

“You wanna know what I think?” Dean looked over at Sam. “I think it should be you up there, not her.” You gasped and Dean stuck his right arm out to wrap around your waist and hold you up. “This thing? With Cas and the book, it ends now. Shut it down before someone else gets hurt. Someone like Cas or y/n. You understand me?”

Sam took a moment before responding. “And what about you?” he asked, staring at the flames.

“Oh, I’m gonna find whoever did this. And I’m gonna rip apart everything and everyone that they ever loved… and then I’m gonna tear out their heart.”

You wanted to feel nervous about the dark energy flowing off of him, the anger and hate, but there was something comforting about it. Sam was definitely nervous about it, though. “Is that  _you_ talking, or the Mark?”

“Does it matter?” Dean asked, before turning and walking away, his arm around your waist forcing you to follow him.

“Dean.” He stopped to allow you to lean against the trunk of the Impala and you looked up at him. “D.”

“You can’t come with me, y/n.”

You shook your head. “Why? I wanna avenge Charlie just as-”

“You’ve been sick and weak and tired for two days, y/n. Now you’re emotionally drained and sad on top of it.” He sighed and looked down into your eyes. “And I can’t be pacified for this. I need every ounce of rage the Mark can give me.”

You reached out and wrapped your hands in his jacket. “What if they kill you?”

“Then I come back with black eyes, I massacre them all and then I come find you.” You ran your hands up to his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. He groaned and pushed you hard into the metal behind you. “Fuck, I want to fuck you so bad.” He shook his head as he pulled back. “But I  _can’t_. When I get back… baby, I promise when I get back I’ll fuck the thoughts outta both our heads, but right now?”

You nodded. “I understand.” He pulled the Chevy keys out of his jacket and walked toward the driver’s door. “I love you, Dean.”

He turned and licked his lips. “I love you, too. Get some rest. Don’t let Sam do anything else stupid, okay?”

“Like I could stop him.” You watched the Impala as he pulled away until you couldn’t see it anymore. Sam approached you apprehensively as soon as the sound of the engine was gone. “I’m not mad like him.”

“But you’re mad.”

“Of course, I am. Aren’t you?” You turned to look at him. “We loved Charlie. Charlie loved us. And she’s dead. And it’s your fault, Sam. Aren’t you mad about that?”

“She wanted to help. We had to find a way to-”

A wave of nausea rolled over you. “Sammy, let’s just go home. I don’t wanna do this right now.”

“Are you okay?”

“Of the three of us, I’m not the one who needs to be worried about,” you snapped. Sam knew that tone meant ‘don’t pry’ so he just started the trek toward the bunker in silence.

Sam got you home safe, then disappeared. It was better for you that way. The longer he stuck around, the more his puppy eyes wore you down. He wouldn’t ask again if you were okay, not for a while, not until he didn’t have a dozen other things to worry about. Not until after he went to Cas and ‘shut it down’… which took much longer than you expected it to. In fact, it was the next day before you even heard from him. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Cas is tracking Dean. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

‘Everything’s gonna be fine.’ Like ever in the history of the Winchester clan had everything ever been fine. Especially not when the bunker door was blasted open and three men entered, guns raised.

“Hello?! Anybody in here?!” a gruff slightly-accented voice called. Like you would be stupid enough to respond to the intruders. Really? How stupid were these guys? You tucked yourself into one of the cabinets in the infirmary where you were when they forced their way into your home. You didn’t have a weapon, didn’t have your phone. You were fucked.

A large man with a two-day beard found you, pulled you from the cabinet. You kicked at him, drove your fist into his face and tried to scratch at him, but he returned the favor, smashing the knuckles of his right hand into your jaw. “That’s the sister, ain’ it?” Eldon Styne scowled down at you. “I’m surprised they left you here all by your lonesome, darlin’.”

“Fuck you!” you spit at the blond.

“Well, that’s not very nice. Here we are, guests in your home, and you’re not being too hospitable.” Eldon’s fist connected with your abs and you doubled over in pain.

“Please,” you croaked.

“Well, she broke fast,” Eldon quipped, leaning over next to you and trying to catch your eyes. “‘Please’ what?”

“Don’t hurt me. Please. I…” You looked at him, standing up straight again. The larger man’s hands wrapped around your biceps and held you in place while Eldon stepped up and got right in your face. “I’m pregnant. Please. Don’t.”

Eldon’s eyes went wide, mockingly. “Well, that is a special circumstance, ain’t it? I mean, we can’t just kill a woman who’s with child, can we? Roscoe, take care’a that, will ya? I’m gonna check on Cy.”

There was no defending against Roscoe using his grip on your arms to rush you headfirst into the wall, disorienting you so that he could bury a hand in your hair and bash your face into the table next to the door. The repeated punches to your stomach and lower abs were enough to put you on the floor, where he started to pepper your ribs and between your thighs with hard kicks from his booted right foot. You weren’t sure if you were crying, if you were making any noise. The only sounds you could hear was your heartbeat rushing in your ears, the only feeling you could feel was pain. And then there was no new pain, just the pulsing throb of the old pains.

“-right back-” Dean’s voice cut through the haze of blood and pain. Relief washed over you until you realized he’d left you alone. You forced yourself to flip over, fighting through the pain to crawl to the door frame and use it to pull yourself to your feet. You slid down the wall, eyes swollen almost to the point of blinding you, leaving trails of blood on the floor and wall as you followed your mental map to the library. “-old man’s dead. They’re all dead. So, you can save me the speech on the, uh, three hearts, the two spleens, the seven nipples… for the ladies… or the fellas, I don’t judge. But even with all that, you still only have one brain.”

“So?”

You flinched as a gun went off and you almost lost your hold on the wall. A body thumped to the floor, then a higher-pitched voice shouted, “No no no no no, don’t! Don’t!” It sounded like a kid, definitely younger than Eldon and Roscoe.

“Why not? You’re one of them,” Dean responded.

“No. No, I’m not! Okay, I hate my family! See, look! No stitches! I’m not like them, I promise!” the kid begged, his voice shaky.

“Oh, you  _are_ like them. There’s bad in you. It’s in your blood. Now you can deny it and you can run from it all you want, but that bad… will always win.”

“I’ll do anything you want. Okay, please. You don’t need to do this. Please,” he cried as you came to lean against the map table.

“Yeah.” There was a pause where you thought Dean might back off and you watched through bleary eyes as he lifted the gun, not aiming it at the kid anymore. “I do.” The gun went off and your full-body flinching made your bloody hand slip against the map table and you fell to the floor as Castiel ran down the stairs.

“Dean! What have you done?” There was a sound of Castiel’s shoes on the floor as he rushed to the boy’s side. “You killed him.”

“I took down a monster. Because that’s what I do. And I’ll continue to do that until…”

“Until you  _become_ the monster.”

“Maybe you should check on my sister. These bastards put her through a wringer before I got here.”

“She’s not dying.”

“Then you can leave now, Cas.”

“No. I can’t. Because I’m your friend.”

“Really? Well, let me ask you somethin’. You screw over  _all_ your friends?”

“Sam and I were trying to cure you. We still are!”

“Like hell.”

“We can read the Book now.”

“Oh, so, what? So, you  _might_ find a spell that  _might_ take this crap off my arm? But even if you do, what’s it gonna cost? ‘Cause magic like that does not come free. No, it comes with a price that you pay in blood. So, thanks, but I’m good.”

“No. You’re not. Maybe you  _could_ fight the Mark for years. Maybe centuries, like Cain did. But you cannot fight it forever. And when you finally turn, and you  _will_ turn… Sam, y/n, and everyone you know, everyone you  _love_ … they could be long dead. Everyone except me. I’m the one who will have to watch you murder the world. So if there’s even a small chance that we can save you, I won’t let you walk out of this room.”

“Oh, you think you have a choice.”

“I think the Mark is changing you.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Because the Dean Winchester I know would never have murdered that kid.”

“Yeah, well, that Dean’s always been kind of a dick.”

You could feel the fight coming. You knew, as soon as Castiel put his hands on him again, that there was going to be an explosion of rage. “Dean. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.”

You tried to pull yourself up off the floor but you couldn’t. All you could do was lie there, crumpled in on yourself with your whole body throbbing in pain, and listen to your brother beat the shit out of his best friend.

“You and Sam stay the hell away from me! Next time, I won’t miss,” Dean said before kneeling down next to you. “Sis, I'ma have to leave you here.”

You groaned. “No, D. Please.”

“You’re too hurt right now. You’d only slow me down. Cas can heal you, after he gets done healin’ himself, and then I can come find you later, okay?”

“D., but-”

Dean patted your shoulder and stood, and you watched through barely-opened eyes as his bowed legs carried him quickly toward the exit. “See ya, other half.”

You stayed on the floor for several minutes before Castiel composed himself and solemnly walked up to you. He pressed two fingers to your forehead and the tingling warmth of his grace passed over you, washing away the pain. A distress took over his eyes as you sat up and looked up him. “I… I wasn’t able to restore the… the fetus. It was-”

You shook your head. “Doesn’t matter,” you snapped, standing. Your heart was at war, though. There had been such warmth in your soul at the idea of bringing a child into the world. A Winchester child, through-and-through, with dark blond hair and big green eyes and parents who had a lifetime of experience raising a kid because they’d been doing it since they were kids themselves. Of course, there was that fear. What if it came out wrong because its parents were twins? What if the Life got the kid killed? Well, that wasn’t a concern anymore. “Doesn’t matter. Can you fix the door, please? I’m gonna go change.”

You threw your blood-covered clothes at the laundry basket in the corner of your room, pulled on clean ones, and sat on your bed. Your eyes were glued to the white plastic stick with the pink cap, sitting on your dresser. There were two pink lines in the indicator box. You moved quickly, grabbing the pregnancy test and tossing it in the trash. It was best to just get rid of it. Don’t think about it. You can’t get depressed about losing something that you only knew you had for a day.

“Y/n?” Sam’s voice outside your door pulled you back to the present. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Always.” You opened your door and smiled up at him. “I’m fine.”

“Cas said you were pretty-”

You shook your head. “Cas got his ass handed to him worse than I did. Worry about him.”

Sam nodded. “Look, uh… can you call Dean? I’ve tried but he’s not… he’s not answering.”

You took a deep breath. “He won’t. Not today, anyway. What went down with Cas, that’s…” You shook your head. “He needs to cool off. He won’t answer. Look… I need…” You blinked to combat the tears trying to pop up in your eyes. “Um… I need some time. I’m gonna head into town, get… something.”

“We need to work on-”

“No, Sam. Whatever you and Cas are up to… I got no part in it. You’ve kept me from it up to this point, so… just…” You forced the pain down, working for a numbness to deal with it.

“We couldn’t tell you, y/n. With this Stockholmy shit you’ve got going with Dean, I knew you’d-”

“Sam… I don’t wanna know. I’m gonna…” You nodded and pushed past him. “I’ll be back later. Don’t do anything stupid before I get home, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sam’s voice was a bit broken and you knew that he wasn’t going to stop what he was doing for your sake or for Dean’s.

“Love ya, Sammy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You knocked on the door of room 15 of Curtis’ Motor Court and waited. Dean smiled, just slightly, when he opened the door. “Thought I told you I’d come find  _you_.”

“Couldn’t wait that long.”

Dean moved out of the way and you walked into the motel room. “And how’d you find me? I turned off all the GPSs.”

“Rudy called to see if Sam and I were gonna be participating in the hunt he called you in on. Wanted to know if he could take me out for a drink if we were.”

“Oh, really?” Dean slammed the door shut, rage in his eyes.

“Be glad he’s got a crush on me, D., or he might’ve called Sammy and dropped your location to  _him_ instead.”

“Uh-huh. Did you tell Sammy my location?”

You shook your head. “No. He’s still back in Lebanon… probably still working with Cas to get that Mark off of you… because neither of them know when to say ‘quit’.”

Dean grabbed a half-full beer from the desk and took a drink. “ _You’re_ gonna lecture on stubborn?”

You stepped up in front of him and looked up into his eyes. “Dean… I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Making things so difficult… through all of this.” You grabbed his beer and set it aside. “For fighting it so hard. I love you, Dean. I need you, need my other half, and I… I didn’t mean to push you away.”

“Yeah, you did,” he responded, looking down at your hands as you curled them in his shirt lapels.

“Well, I shouldn’t have.”

Dean moved his hands to rest on your hips. “No, you shouldn’t have. But I’ll forgive you for it.” His fingers dug into your flesh and you shivered. “But you’re gonna have to get on your knees and earn my forgiveness.”

You smiled up at him. “Can I have a kiss first?”

He dipped his head down and pressed his full lips to yours, pulling your body against his as your tongues pressed against each other. You slipped your hands up around his neck and pulled him down harder. He pushed you away, one hand going to his belt buckle as the other forced you to your knees on the carpet in front of him.

Everything you knew about blowjobs beyond ‘put it in your mouth’ you learned from Dean. Jesse had respected that you weren’t ready for that. Dean, however, had loved teaching you exactly what to do and he loved how enthusiastically you went about it once you learned.

His left hand buried in your hair as you wrapped your hand around him, running your tongue along the vein on the underside of his erection before closing your lips around his girth and bobbing your head. “Harder,” he demanded, fingers twisting tighter in your hair, so you increased suction and started to move faster. “That’s right. You’re so fucking good at that, sis. Take my cock like a pro, baby.”

You looked up at him to see his head tilted back, mouth hung open in the closest he ever got to pure rapture. He really was a completely beautiful specimen of humanity.

You reached up to cup his balls as you took him down almost into your throat, rolling your tongue around as you sucked. “Up.” He pulled your hair and you stood licking at your lips. Dean kissed you as you pulled at each other’s clothes.

“Need you,” you moaned into his mouth.

“Need, or want?” he asked, pushing you to the bed.

“Both,” you whispered as he covered your body with his own, pressing his lips to your neck and pulling his teeth along your skin. “Dean, please.”

“Shhhhh. Got'chu.” He slid his hand down your body, putting bruising pressure at the sensitive dips in your curves, and buried his hand between your thighs. His middle finger slipped between your lips and easily pushed inside of you. “So wet.”

“Fuck. Please.”

“What, you want me to hurt you? I can do that.”

“No, but I want you to fuck me, please. It won’t hurt. Please,” you begged. He pressed his lips to yours, pulling his hand away from you to grab your thigh and hitch your leg at his hip. As he slowly pushed his thick cock into you, you dug your fingernails into his shoulder and bit at his bottom lip.

“Fuck,” he groaned into your mouth as he bottomed out and you clenched hard around him. “God, so good.”

When he moved, it was harsh and hard, but slow. He fucked you like he knew it was going to be the last time, like the world was ending bloody and he knew that you would never have this moment back. When you came screaming, he dropped his head to your shoulder and finished with a grunt. He held you to him and everything felt kinda okay as you fell asleep in his arms.

Everything changed so quickly after that. Dean got Rudy killed, disappeared to go talk to Death, killed Death to spare Sam, and then Rowena took off the Mark… and out came the Darkness. Amara, a tiny newborn baby, who Dean saw in a vision as a full-grown woman. You, Sam and Dean focused on saving Cas from Rowena’s spell but after he was saved, everything ground to a halt.

The Mark was gone, the push for dark energy and depravity gone with it, and an aftereffect of that was the complete disconnect of the Winchester twins. Dean could barely speak to you and eye contact was a thing of the past. God forbid he accidentally  _touch_ you.

There was a lull between saving Cas and finding another case. Almost three weeks of depression and loss and a slowly boiling anger. So much for ‘I’m not going anywhere’. So much for ‘I love you’. So much for ‘Let us be close again’.

You spent most of your time alone in your room while Dean washed his car far too many times and Cas watched Netflix in Sam’s room and Sam researched the Darkness. You only ventured out to eat and use the restroom. Sam and Cas both checked on you daily, but Dean never did and the longer you went without talking about it, the more it hurt and burned and boiled inside you.

Toward the end of the second week, you left your room at a little before midnight and headed for the library. You weren’t helping anybody by locking yourself away, least of all yourself. You were going to do some research into the Darkness, or at least get some reading done. Sam was sitting at the table with a pile of books in front of him. His eyes lit up when he saw you. “Hey!”

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“Peachy. What’cha working on?”

“Looking for the Darkness. Anything about her.” You sat on the edge of the table and picked the top book off of the pile and opened it in your lap. “Are you okay, y/n?”

You bit your lip and tried to focus on the words on the page, but your eyes went unfocused with tears. “He hasn’t talked to me. He… he doesn’t…” you whispered and Sam slid his chair backwards so that he could look up into your face better. “He  _gave_ me this… this sickness. He broke me and ruined me and now he…” You wiped at your eyes and shook your head. “He doesn’t want me, anymore. It really was the Mark. Everything he said about loving me our whole fuckin’ lives, it was all just…”

Sam stood and wrapped his arms around you and you started to sob as he pressed your face into his chest. “I’m sure it’s not what you think. Maybe he just feels bad about what he did. Maybe he-”

“He didn’t love me! He just used me for the Mark!”

“Hey, hey, that’s not true!” Sam pulled you back from his chest and looked down into your eyes. “He probably thinks you need time, y/n. He did, you know,  _hurt_ you… a lot. But he loves you… and maybe he can’t bring himself to touch you that way anymore now that the Mark is gone, but… he loves you just as much as I do. Look,” he whispered the last word and nodded slightly to the Map table where Dean had just sat down with his laptop.

“Maybe, if you’re feeling unfulfilled,” Sam started, a little bit louder than necessary. “I could help you, y/n.”

He obviously expected some sort of reaction from Dean, but your twin just pulled open his computer and focused on the screen. “Thanks for try-” you began, moving to walk away and go hide in your room again, but Sam interrupted by grasping your head in his big hands and pressing his pink lips to yours. You squealed in surprise, trying to pull away, but Sam just held you harder and pushed you into the table, knocking over his books. It took you a moment to catch on that he was trying to get a reaction out of Dean, who never did want to share what was ‘his’.

No violent reaction occurred. When Sam pulled back and you both looked toward Dean, he was calmly putting on his headphones. A pit of sickness formed in your chest as you pushed away from the table and stomped out of the library to get back to the safe space of your bedroom.

You were right. You knew that nothing good could come from staying, from helping him with that stupid Mark. Of  _course_ as soon as you let go completely, as soon as you give in to the sickness, he doesn’t want you anymore.

The letter you wrote Sam was long. You told him you couldn’t stay. That you had only one silver lining and it was that Roscoe Styne had beat the abomination out of you because you could only imagine how much worse things would be if you were still pregnant. You thanked him for being a good little brother, for getting the Mark off of Dean because you were set to lose everything that mattered to you that night if Death’s plan had gone through. You thanked him for taking care of Dean, knowing that the two of them would always sacrifice everything for each other, even other people. You told him you’d answer the phone if ever they truly needed you, but you doubted they would.

The first letter you wrote Dean was full of accusations and anger, harsh words about the illness he afflicted you with and how you wished he would’ve just let the Mark take him before he broke you… but you crumpled that one in favor of a simple message.

**_‘I hate you almost as much as I hate myself’._ **

You folded each in half and wrote their names on the outside. You stared at them for a long time after you’d finished packing, waiting to hear the sounds of their bedroom doors closing as they gave in to sleep for the night, and you left them on the kitchen table before you slipped out of the bunker into the crisp Autumn air.


End file.
